A Leader's Mind
by TheWesternScotsman
Summary: Seeing inside the mind of Enjolras during the barricade, and his thoughts as he leads his friends to imminent death.
1. Signing Away Our Lives

1. Signing Away Our Lives

We were here. This moment which we had long spoken of had finally arrived. We had always loved the republic; we had yearned for it. There was no doubt whatsoever that there were many who did.

Perhaps though, the difference of our group -the friends of the ABC- was that we were willing to do something about our wish. We wanted to turn it into more than a wish; we were determined to turn it into reality.

A critic could have overseen our meetings and pointed out the fact that our radical, revolutionary discussions were ultimately futile, as they came to nothing. Were we just a bunch of men who found it satisfactory to complain about everything and anything in the hope that they would somehow change, more to our liking.

Like everyone whose discussions are more than empty promises though, a time would come when we felt we had to stand up; when it was the time that if our dream was to ever become a reality, it would be now.

June 1832, for us, was this time.

I had dedicated time to rallying the troops, if you will, to make sure that I had people to fight with my friends and I, who were like us, who had a better plan than to cause widespread riot, and who yearned for the republic like ourselves.

Of course though, widespread riot was to spread through the city of Paris, as the restless poor turned into angered citizens.

These riots would allow us to erect our barricade: our barricade of freedom, hope and propserity.

Did us men really understand the depth and seriousness of what we were getting ourselves into though? I did. I understood fully from the very start that the chances of me making the ultimate sacrifice for the republic -in the form of my life- was a likely outcome. I was proud of that possible outcome though. I was willing to do this.

Did my friends understand this though? Perhaps some of them did; perhaps some of them did not. I think it is safe to say that most could recognise the risk of getting themselves into such a situation, however with war, many do not really feel the pain of having to fight for your life, as well as watching those closest to you suffer and die in front of you until it happens. You can envisage the worst outcomes in your head, and they may appear frightening and daunting. Despite that, you power on knowing that this sacrifice is worth it; that you can be brave and make that sacrifice. It is only once you are placed into the reality of this situation that it dawns on you what you are doing. This is when the fear rushes towards your head; when you realise that you may not in fact be cut out for such a noble sacrifice.

When I say this, I do not only refer to my closest friends. Some of them understood the likelihood of death just as much as I did.

Combeferre was a wise man. He understood what he was doing and why he was doing it. That was the basic extent of his knowledge, considering his knowledge was something that went far beyond that.

Grantaire was a cynic; a realist in a way. I have no doubt at all that whether he was really willing to fight or not, he understood that, in all probability, he would not walk away from the barricade with his life intact. Why would he not? I did not understand at this stage. I was at a loss to tell you why he was here. His respect and admiration for me was clearly evident, however I was underestimating just how far this admiration went at this stage.

When I refer to those who would have suddenly become filled with endless fear when they set eyes on the barricade, I refer to those who volunteered themselves to help out us chiefs; those who would bluntly refuse to leave the barricades when filled with that fear I described at the risk of being labelled as a gutless coward who would talk valiantly of freedom, but ran scared when their thoughts of freedom were challenged and put to the test. Combeferre especially did not believe this of those men who would run from the barricade at the hour of war, however it could be said in a way that running from something you want but fear is harder than remaining there in spite of your evident fear and fighting till your death for it anyway.

Either way, we were here. The insurrection had risen. We knew that with the rise of the barricade would come the fall of our livelihood, barring some inconceivable miracle. I understood this especially, knowing that perhaps others would not. I did not have time to concern myself with this at such a time though. Those who had ignorantly decided to fight and would soon be overcome with fear in knowledge of their inevitable fate would find out the grave mistake they had made soon enough.


	2. Grantaire's State

2. Grantaire's State

For most of us within the group, this was what we had longed for. The idea of the republic emerging from the ashes was a far fetched dream, but one that did remain nevertheless.

This insurrection may have been one that struck fear into us, but at the same time, it brought hope to us all. That was with one notable excepetion though: Grantaire.

Why was Grantaire here? I was unsure. He was a cynic, someone who believed in nothing, who dreamed of nothing and did not long for the republic like the rest of us did. He was the black sheep of the group; the one who stood out as being notably different to the rest of us. Anyone without our group would have questioned as to why he associated himself with us when he was clearly not alike us, and showed no desire of being so. Many of us ourselves asked the same questions when in a thoughtful state. The difference with us though was that we had simply become so accustomed to his ever present presence over time that we longer questioned it. He was here with us. We did not know why he was, but he was, which was all that mattered.

His attitude at the barricade was no different. He remained in a state of intoxication within the tavern. While the rest of us worried about what the imminent conflict would bring, he simply consoled himself in a bottle of wine upstairs, oblivious to the problems that surrounded us.

I tried not to let this selfishness, if you want to call it that, concern me. Why should I? He was not my problem to deal with. If he had no pride, no willingness to fight, then that was his concern, not mine. While hearing him ramble on, speaking a whole load of nothing as per usual though, I could not hold my tongue; I could not restrain from responding to his words.

Courfeyrac warned him to keep silent, however his words had no effect on him. He continued to speak as he had been before, which prompted me to reply.

"Grantaire," I shouted, "go get rid of the fumes of your wine somewhere else than here. This is the place for enthusiasm, not for drunkenness. Don't disgrace the barricade!"

These words had a sudden and noticeable effect on Grantaire. For someone reason, while Courfeyrac's did not, mine did. It almost appeared as if Grantaire had snapped out of that intoxicated state he had been in at that very moment.

Perhaps I should have paid more attention to Grantaire. In my state of being busy though, I did not have time to notice. I never did have. The republic came first, as did this insurrection. Small problems with my friends could be swiftly dealt with; Grantaire's I did not particularly have time for. I was unaware of whether he was actually troubled at all, or if he instead was just obsessed with alcohol.

As well as this, his words, I admit, did anger me. He clearly had no respect whatsoever for our cause. I had no qualms with letting him stick around even if he was not as passionate about our cause as everyone else, however I would not accept him bringing a cynical attitude to the barricade. Whether we were going to die or not, this was a place of hope. It was not a place for negative attitudes, or for cynicism.

Should I have simply sent the man away from the barricade? Perhaps it would have been wise, since he offered nothing whatsoever to our cause. Would he have left though? I doubt it, considering it appeared he wanted to be with us. He would have happily died for our cause, despite not believing in that cause.

Grantaire had his reasons for sticking around though. I simply did not realise them at this stage. I was too oblivious to notice.

Grantaire quickly fell into a sleep in the tavern, a situation which satisfied all of us. It would keep him out of harms way for the time being. His vile words would not be spoken, so he would not be an obstacle to the rest of us in that way.

He would not be dwelling on his predicament either. His brain, no doubt, would be busy at work while he was sleeping, but as long as the thoughts of that brain did not have an impact on the rest of us during this time, I had no problem with him doing what he was doing.

The man was clearly not cut out for barricade. He lacked the passion, the will, the fight and the bravery. Perhaps some others lacked the ability to fight, however I was able to at least admire their willingless to die for the cause. Grantaire had none of the attributes required to succeed here.

I knew that the man had a certain respect or admiration for me. I believed that this would be partially why he remained at the barricade, however at this time, I did not understand the extent of that belief in me. I was blind to him in that respect.


End file.
